Page 32 of Free Wind (Lifeguards of Barking Beach #2)

Damo stood on the side of the buggy, peering beyond the swells, waiting for a flash of—“Yep. Reckon I’m going for a paddle.” All thoughts of Tabby and home and Blake had to go.

The radio squawked, and yep, he was in.

“Tabs!”

Damo waited, then called again, “Tabs!” His long-sleeved wetsuit was unzipped to his waist, hanging down toward the lino floor. He’d caught a quick set to get his head on straight before coming home. He’d be meeting Blake back at Barkers soon, so he had to either tell her or cancel the trip.

“What?”

“C’mere!”

Standing at the kitchen sink, he picked up a plate from the soapy water and scrubbed at the dried-on sauce from last night’s spag bol. Tabby’s door opened down the hall with a creak, and she heaved a sigh as she entered the kitchen.

“What?” she repeated before tapping her phone.

“Just need to talk to ya.” He scrubbed harder, trying to keep his voice normal even as his pulse jumped like he’d just spotted a tourist in a rip.

“Here I am. Yes, Dad had his meds. He’s out of it today.”

They’d never said it out loud, but Damo knew neither of them minded when he was dozy.

“Um…” Damo put the plate in the rack. The dishwasher had busted a year ago and now they kept extra pots in it.

Tabby stepped closer, putting her phone in her shorts pocket. “What?”

Jesus, he was leaving for two bloody nights. Mum would be home by eight the first night and off work the second. Why was he tied up in knots? “I’m goin’ away.”

Blue eyes wide, Tabby’s lip trembled. “When?”

“Tomorrow. It’ll—”

“Tomorrow?” Jaw on the floor, she stared. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Hands balled, she blinked back tears.

“Whoa, whoa.” Damo reached for her with wet, sudsy hands, but she jerked away.

“You’re moving out tomorrow and never said a word?”

“Who’s moving out? I’m going down to Bremer Bay for two nights. Then I’ll be back.”

Tabby blinked, shaking her head, her ponytail swaying. “Huh?”

“Bremer Bay. West of Albany? It’s a five-and-a-half-hour drive, so we’ll go down and stay overnight, then see the killer whales.” Water from his hands dripped and splashed his bare feet. “’Course I’m not moving out. Where’d you get that idea?”

Tabby waved a hand at him. “From you! Why were you acting so nervous?”

“I wasn’t!” he lied, feeling like the world’s biggest pork chop.

“Why the hell did you make such a big deal out of it?”

“I didn’t want you to be upset!”

“I’m not!”

Behind Dad’s closed door, the volume on the telly rose. Tabby and Damo stared down the hall. She muttered, “Guess he’s awake and we’re being too loud for his royal highness.”

“He didn’t used to be like this,” Damo said quietly.

Tabby clenched her jaw. “So you say. I wouldn’t know.”

“Come on, you remember. You have to.” The awful, crushing sadness of Tabby barely remembering Dad before the accident stole everything made his knees weak.

Not answering, she focused on Damo. “I’ll be fine. I’m not a baby. Mum’s on days this week anyway.”

Turning back to the dishes for something to do with his twitching fingers, he nodded. “She’ll be home by eight tomorrow, and she switched a shift so she’ll be home all day Thursday.”

He’d held his breath asking Mum about her schedule. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—leave Tabby alone overnight.

Tabby shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll be fine either way. Who are you going with?”

“Oh, just a mate,” he answered way too fast. Face hot, he went at dried egg yolk on a fork.

“Why are you being weird again?”

“I’m not!” He desperately tried to think of something else to say. “I’ll be stoked to see whales.”

“Okay. You surfing?”

“Nah, not in Bremer.”

Tabby rolled her eyes. “Now I mean.” She motioned to his wetsuit. “You’re not staying for dinner?”

“Sorry. I’ll grab something later. There’s food in the fridge for you.”

She shrugged again. “’Kay.”

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know I haven’t been home as much.”

“It’s not like you can’t go out. But you’re acting weird.”

“Am I?” He laughed, but it sounded fake as.

“Yeah, like, that? Was weird. I get you don’t want to spend every night hanging with your little sister, but…”

Guilt gut punched him. “Tabs, it’s not you. C’mere.” She resisted, complaining that he’d get her wet, but he pulled her into a hug. After a second, her slim arms circled his waist. He said, “I’m just…”

Part of him wanted to spill it all about Blake. He could do it right now—just open his gob and let the words come out.

But he was going to be late. More than that, he still wasn’t ready for his worlds to collide. He had no fear that Tabby wouldn’t accept him as bi, but…

Bi. Bisexual. I’m bisexual.

He wanted to sit with it a bit more before he brought that truth into this house. Still, he hated lying, so he said, “I’m seeing someone new.”

Tabby drew back with a grin, giving him a playful smack. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did!”

“Okay, so who is she?”

It made sense Tabby assumed it was a chick—it always had been before. But Damo’s stomach still tightened with a nervous rush, his throat going dry.

Yeah, he wasn’t quite ready for this conversation at home.

“I promise I’ll tell you soon, okay? I’ve gotta run.”

“Fine. You’ll cop it if you don’t.”

“Oh, I’m trembling!”

“You’d better be!” Tabby laughed, and the TV behind Dad’s door got even louder.

Damo kissed her head again and started down the hall. “I’ll tell him to turn it down.”

“I don’t care what he does.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “You’re late!”

Giving his sister a grin, Damo zipped up his wetsuit and escaped.

An hour later, the current pulled hard around Damo’s knees as he fought it. His feet sank into the wet sand, and he gritted his teeth as he splashed to shore, a wave frothing up to his hips. Blake was beside him with his board, laughing as he escaped the current’s clutches too.

The sun kissed the horizon, and Damo knew they’d already pushed it by staying out for that last set.

Dawn and dusk were riskier times than usual for sharks, and even though the odds were still slim, he’d promised Tabby years ago when she was small and went through an obsessive phase with sharks that he’d always be safely on the sand when the sun was going down.

It was mental to feel guilty now—it’d been forever since he’d made the promise, and Tabby surely didn’t even remember it.

But he still carried his board onto the dry sand and Blake followed.

There were only a few surfers left past the breakers, and the shutters were down on the lifeguard tower, everything locked up tight.

Most of the tourists had buggered off, packing up their umbrellas and eskies and sunburned kids, the long parking lot past the grass three-quarters empty.

The sunset watchers were out, couples walking along the wet sand with the sea foaming around their feet, parked on towels on the beach and the grass, or sitting on the low stone wall along the edge of the beach.

Not too many on a weeknight, and soon they’d be gone.

“You in a hurry to get going?” Damo asked. It was just gone seven, so still earlyish. Mum would be home soon, and Tabby knew he was out.

Blake watched the spread of orangey-pink across the sky, the soft light reflecting on his face, reminding Damo of how he’d looked wearing the red lippy. “That depends. What did you have in mind?”

And the way Blake said it made it sound like he definitely had something in mind.

Something sexy.

Damo shivered, his dick twitching. He willed himself not to pop a boner in his tight wetsuit. “I know a spot around the rocks.”

Blake quirked an eyebrow. He opened his mouth, then paused. “You don’t need to get home?”

It hung heavy between them in the salty air. Blake was no fool—clearly he knew there was something to do with home that Damo wasn’t telling.

He said, “Not yet.”

“You’re sure? I understand if you need to get going.”

And he would understand, which made Damo feel warm and fluttery. “Positive.”

Blake gave him a smile. “Lead the way.”

They tucked their boards into a sliver of space in the rocks locals had used for years as a hidey hole, then picked their way around the bend to the flat, barnacled rocks on the other side of the spit.

There were no fishermen tonight, and Damo’s pulse thrummed, the burning tug in his shoulders and thighs as he climbed up to the ledge satisfying after a long day working the beach.

He was aware of Blake following like there was an invisible thread between them.

Like Blake was his surfboard, the leash reassuringly snug around Damo’s ankle.

They brushed against each other as they picked their way over the rocks before space opened up, the tug still there, coming together again a moment later.

Damo reminded himself to breathe.

The ledge wasn’t high, but it was just high enough that the crashing waves foamed a couple of meters below.

You had to know it was there—know exactly the right rocks to scale.

The wind-smoothed stone was familiar under Damo’s feet and hands, and he breathed a sigh of relief that the ledge was empty of other locals tonight.

He stood on the mostly flat surface, the rock still a bit warm from the hot sun. The evening wind ruffled his low, damp ponytail. The sky was red now, low clouds streaked with blood orange.

“Wow.” Blake stood beside him. He craned his neck up, then leaned over the edge to look down. “Private little spot.”

“Yeah, no one can see you here.” Damo motioned up behind them.

“The overhang is just enough. It’s not a cave, but if someone climbed higher up, they wouldn’t see us.

And below, someone would have to be in a boat, I reckon.

It’s sweet as. Listen to the waves and feel like you’ve got the whole world to yourself.

Me and my mates used to bring some tinnies and watch the stars come out. ”

“Smoke a few joints?”

“Yeah, if we could get our grubby paws on ’em.”

“Talk about the meaning of life?”

“Oh yeah. Life according to Barkers’ groms. Bunch of boofheads.”